


Bright Star

by covenofthearticulate



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 23:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covenofthearticulate/pseuds/covenofthearticulate
Summary: Lestat makes up for a disappointing Christmas gift with a surprise.





	Bright Star

“Mmmm… _joyeux Noël,_ _ma moitié_ ” Lestat’s voice was muffled into the pillow, making Louis smirk as he fell sideways into bed.

Lestat smiled at the ceiling, his right hand raking over his forehead to move his tousled golden mane out of his face. A slight sheen of pinkish-red bloodsweat coated his face, matching the small spurt that was spattered across his stomach. This had become a tradition of sorts for them, the last few decades. The thing he loved so much about Louis was that he was never in any hurry to get out of bed, and on Christmas, Lestat definitely took advantage of such lethargy.

Part of him knew that this reluctance to get up and go out was due to the fact that Louis probably still half expected to be dragged out of bed by an overly excited little girl. Being back on Rue Royale was both a blessing and a curse of sorts, and though Louis knew that he was no longer expected to play the role of Père Noël and set out presents, he sometimes felt a panic, like something was missing. Lestat had noticed it not long after they were officially settled- the way Louis’ brow would draw into a small confused scowl upon waking, the way his vibrant green eyes would dart expectantly to the door for just a moment before his face would drop and his chest would rise in a deep inhale. Lestat witnessed this dozens of times, the early riser that he was. It wasn’t just during the holidays, but he did seem particularly agitated on Christmas morning the last few years. But how could he assuage his lover? He would certainly be assaulted and yelled at if he tried to have such an emotional talk with Louis so soon after waking. And besides, Louis had become spoiled with this modern era; he was allowed to sleep for however long he wanted, and would get genuinely upset at anyone for disturbing his precious slumber. Really, Lestat had no choice but to wake him with gentle kisses and loving caresses, that somehow always evolved into more. He didn’t set out to have sex with Louis each evening- but really it was the only way to rouse him without getting barked at and, well, Lestat’s libido wasn’t exactly average. It was his duty, at this point, and Louis seemed to be responding quite well.

“Merry Christmas,” Louis panted, closing his eyes as a small blissful smile tugged at his lips.

He gently shoved Lestat in order to grab the half tossed-away covers and pull them back up over their blissfully sprawled bodies. Once they were beneath the weighted duvet, he allowed Lestat to pull him closer by placing an arm on his hip and tugging until Louis was on his side only inches from him.

“I half expected you to be wearing a Santa hat or something festive for tonight’s…coupling,” He muttered amusedly.

“Oh, please, Louis, I’m not _that_ tacky.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I can put something on if you’d like a do-over.”

“No thank you.”

 “Really, it’s no inconvenience. I’ve got a hat _and_ a pair of antlers in the other room. You can take your pick if you like.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Or maybe we can _both_ wear them. I’d let you have the antlers, of course. Then Santa could _really_ ride his reindeer.”

“ _Shut up._ ”

“Make m-mmm”

It was practically instinct now for Louis to shut him up with a kiss whenever Lestat uttered such phrases. Lestat didn’t mind. In fact, he smiled against Louis’ lips and let out a small hum as he weaved his fingers through his thick black hair. It was utterly humiliating how much he’d come to love this disgustingly warm and romantic domesticity they’d fallen into. To be home in one’s own bed, naked beneath the plush comforter with tangled legs, listening to the soft drum of a lover’s heartbeat- what could be better?

Louis closed his eyes as he pulled away, feeling a new wave of drowsiness wash over him as the afterglow continued to render his body limp with satiation. When he felt Lestat moving to leave the bed, he rolled over onto his back, keeping his eyes shut as he melted into the bed. He was back in the 21st Century now, and whatever fragmented memories and anxieties of the past were banished and replaced with a peaceful self-awareness. He was here, with Lestat, in their home, on Christmas Eve, and everything was _good_ for once _._ He pulled the nearest pillow over his face as soon as Lestat flipped on the lights, wanting just a few more minutes of sleep. Though he no longer needed any real rest, Louis loved the feeling of mortal laziness, and thoroughly enjoyed relaxing in his nice soft bed.

He only dragged himself out of bed when the faint smell of coffee wafted through the air; a local French blend that they had been buying for decades. Though they could not drink it, the smell and warmth was addictive enough, and so Louis eventually hopped out of bed and stumbled into a pair of lounge pants before following his nose into the foyer.

He smiled upon seeing Lestat, with one mug in each hand, standing in front of their little coffee table, upon which sat two neatly wrapped gifts. They had placed them there the night before, so that they would be ready to open tonight. Though it technically wasn’t Christmas yet, it was much easier to do all the customs on Christmas Eve. If they waited until Christmas evening, they would only have a few hours to truly celebrate before it was technically over. The gift he had set out for Lestat was in a nice little red and green striped bag with white ribbon handles. There was a tag attached, with Lestat’s name on it, written in the neat cursive lettering his tutors had forced him into. Though the tag wasn’t necessary- there were only two of them, so the gift designated for either of them was obviously the one they did not put there- he knew Lestat liked to see his name written out. Inside the bag were two items- a smart home device, and a beautiful plum colored Armani scarf with gold detailing. He was quite proud of the gifts, actually, and he knew Lestat would absolutely love them.

Louis graciously accepted the warm cup of coffee, feeling his entire being sigh with relief as the heat radiated through his body. The strong smell took him back, just for a moment, to the days he would spend drinking a similar but infinitely stronger concoction from his fine china cups in one of the seemingly endless rooms of the Pointe du Lac plantation. He could barely remember the taste, but he knew he had loved the bitter taste on his mortal tongue. He had to hold back a smirk as he looked back down at the mug in his hand, decorated with little _fleurs de lis_ in every color imaginable- a gag gift Lestat had picked out a few years back that had somehow become his designated mug. They sat for a while, in comfortable silence, settling into the sofa and simply enjoying each other’s presence while the coffee cooled all too quickly in their hands.

Lestat eventually pulled out his phone to catch up on his social media, while Louis simply looked out the window and watched the breeze rustle the bougainvillea on the balcony. They sat like this for a while, neither one of them feeling any need to speak. To simply co-exist in silence was one of Louis’ favorite things, and yet, when he felt Lestat’s eyes on him after ten or so minutes, he couldn’t help but smile slightly as he turned to lock eyes.

“Louis, come here,” Lestat’s voice was the first to break the silence, though Louis didn’t mind. He had his phone in hand, and glanced at it for a moment before excitedly looking to Louis as he raised the phone in the air, poised for the perfect selfie.

“Take a Christmas picture with me."

“…I don’t have a shirt on,” He mumbled lamely in reply. He hated pictures, though he knew this would be a useless fight since it was a special occasion.

“You don’t need one.”

Louis rolled his eyes at this, but did not budge from his spot.

“Louis, please! It’s Christmas.”

“It’s December 24th, 9 PM.”

“It’s _almost_ Christmas. Come on, Monsieur Scrooge.”

Louis shot him a pointed look, to which Lestat only grinned in return. Reluctantly, Louis walked back to the bedroom to grab a sweater out of the dresser. It was one of his favorites- dark olive green that fell just slightly off his shoulders and had sleeves that were perhaps a little too stretched. Lestat had tried convincing him to throw it out far too many times, and each time, Louis would refuse, and continue to wear the worn out thing out of pure spite. He walked back to the parlour and settled down beside Lestat, ignoring the unapproving look he received for his choice of sweater. Still, he gave a small smile as Lestat wrapped an arm around his shoulders and snapped a picture.

He never particularly liked looking at pictures of himself, but he knew how much it meant to Lestat. For Lestat, it wasn’t simply an Instagram post to wish his fans and followers a merry Christmas. It was a way to show off his and Louis’ relationship to the world. A way to say “Hey! Look how fantastic we are! Look, someone _actually_ loves me!” Louis hated such ridiculous public displays of affection, but over the last few years he’d come to realize that for his lover, it was an affirmation, and so he had become slightly more lax when it came to taking pictures. He looked over Lestat’s shoulder as he typed out a little message to his followers- making sure to directly tag Louis, of course.

“Alright, shall we do presents before midnight mass?” Lestat asked, throwing his phone down on the sofa and giving Louis his full attention at last.

“Yes.”

Louis’ eyes drifted to the two little packages on the table, picking up the one he knew was for him. He turned the little tag to face up, and studied Lestat’s sloppy printing of his name, as well as Louis’. “To: Louis, From: Lestat.” The box was rather big- perhaps two feet in diameter. But when he picked it up, he was surprised to find it was light, with something smaller rattling inside. Leave it to Lestat to deceive him with a bigger package. Curiously, he looked up at Lestat as he gave the box a little shake, then smiled as he felt the smaller object rattling inside. It was a book; he could tell by the way the edges slid along the side of the box from one corner to the other.

He tore the wrapping paper away in no time, and opened the box to find… _The Works of John Keats._

He couldn’t help but furrow his brow for a moment, and took the book out of the box, just to make sure there was nothing else in the box itself. Being careful to hide his emotions, he turned the book over in his hands and felt the cover. It was new. Made in the last few decades. It was pretty, of course. All leather-bound with gold lettering. But he already owned all Keats’ works. In fact, he owned several first edition collections.

When he looked up at Lestat for some sort of explanation, he only saw his lover laughing excitedly over his new Amazon “Smart Home” device. The Armani scarf that Louis had tucked into the top of the bag was already around Lestat’s neck, and it took him several seconds of hard staring until Lestat tore his eyes from his new toy to glance back up at Louis.

“Goodness, Louis, this is fantastic! Really, I never thought you’d allow me to have one of these. Oh, I’m going to have so much fun.”

They had had a multitude of fights over the last few months over this particular item, mostly because Louis was hesitant to become so dependent on technology, and knew that Lestat would take absolute advantage and do the most ridiculous things with the voice commands. Louis had shut down the conversation every time it came up, so naturally, the gift was a surprise. But despite his begrudging remarks, it was Christmas after all, and this was what Lestat had wanted.

Now, Louis, on the other hand- what had he wanted? He said he wanted nothing, as he said last year and the year before that, but that wasn’t true. Of course he wanted a nice, thoughtful Christmas gift. He didn’t have any specific requests, but this- this book- was not it. It was…predictable. Felt almost like a jab, or in the very least, a teasing reminder of Louis’ archaic taste. It was something Louis could have gone out and bought for himself if he wanted. It simply didn’t feel… _special._

“I thought you’d need a copy that you could actually read,” Lestat explained without looking up from his box.

“You can’t touch your old first editions for fear of ruining them, and your paperback copies are all falling apart. Honestly, I don’t know why you keep those trashy tattered versions from the 80s. God forbid you buy yourself something nice.”

“It’s…wonderful.” Louis replied, perhaps a bit too diplomatically.

But Lestat was already pulling up tape and opening his box to set up his new toy, and Louis watched with a bittersweet amusement. He was delighted to see how absolutely thrilled Lestat was, and it was always entertaining to watch his childlike tendencies on Christmas, but as he looked back down at the book in his hand, Louis couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He knew he was being stupid- Christmas wasn’t even about presents anymore, in fact, he’d spent dozens, if not hundreds of Christmases without exchanging gifts or even being with a loved one. And besides, the book was _nice._ At least Lestat paid enough attention to know who Louis’ favorite author was. Still, it felt somewhat thoughtless, and all the excited buzz in the pit of his stomach had now fallen flat.

 Louis tossed the book onto the coffee table and headed back to the bedroom.

“You should start getting ready soon,” He called to Lestat. “Mass is at 11.”

“Louis, it’s 9:20.”

“Yes, and it takes you ages to get ready. I’m leaving at 10, with or without you.”

“Darling, just because the doors open at 11 does not mean we must be there at that exact time. I know you’re trying very hard to play the part of a good little Catholic boy for this one day of the year, but please relax.”

Louis tensed at this, but did not reply. Instead, he simply stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him with a loud thud. There was nothing Lestat hated more than closed bedroom doors, and Louis knew it. But Louis was in a bad mood now, thanks to Lestat, and needed his privacy.

It was true that this was really the only time of the year that Louis went to mass- but then again, it was the _only_ night of the year when mass was held at midnight. Still, even if he was not the same God-fearing plantation owner he had been so many years ago, attending church on Christmas Eve was a community event, and he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He looked forward to see how the St. Louis cathedral would be decorated each year, to see all the brilliant lights and colors of his beautiful city, to watch all the little children yawning and begging to stay up for just a few minutes more. It was all just so lovely, and Louis was determined to enjoy himself- with or without Lestat. 

He stepped in front of the mirror as he slid into an old pair of jeans, then plucked a hair band from one of the many little boxes that was kept on top of the dresser. He tied his hair into a sloppy bun, then tucked his sweater into his pants before grabbing socks and a belt to complete the outfit. Once he had his phone, wallet, keys, and jacket, he stepped back out of the bedroom and walked through the parlour towards the front door.

“It’s not even ten o’clock yet, Louis.” Lestat said, standing as Louis walked past him.

“How observant of you.”

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet.”

 “Why? _Mon coeur,_ _qu’est-ce que c’set?_ Why are you upset, what have I done this time?”

Louis stiffened at these questions, but provided no answer. He was not in the mood to fight; he’d rather sulk alone with his thoughts. Shaking his head, he trudged ahead to the door, and walked out of the flat without a second thought.

It was freezing outside, and the harsh air made his eyes water and the world melt into red before he blinked it all away. It was a harsh, all-embracing cold, that began to numb his already frozen flesh as he stepped quickly and silently through the night. He found a quick meal to warm him up on the way to the Cathedral. Some crook hanging around the corner of Ursulines and Chartres, no doubt waiting to prey on all the people rushing about at the last minute to buy last minute groceries at the 24 hour store, or hurrying back home to be with their families. He would not be missed, and Louis felt no guilt in consuming his vitality. The blood felt nearly scalding hot against the icy air, but he loved it. Finally, he felt like he could breathe again.

After disposing the body, he walked a block North, just to visit Bourbon street once more. Normally he was put off by the tourist strip with its tacky signs and endless stream of drunk mortals, but during the holidays he was absolutely enchanted by the lights. Every color imaginable hung from every nook and cranny, and it never failed to amaze him. There were only a few bars still open, and though Louis was tempted to slide into one of them just to take shelter from the elements and sit by the window to look outside, he decided against it. He did not want to interact with anyone just yet, not even the lonely bartenders or tipsy patrons.

And so he walked on down to Jackson Square, and took a seat on the nearest bench opposite the St. Louis Cathedral. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he let out a small annoyed huff, and stared at his boots kicking the dirt around beneath him. He was angry again. Well, perhaps not angry, but frustrated. As always, his thoughts drifted back to Lestat. Lestat, who was probably sitting in their apartment, perfectly happy right now. Lestat, who cared more about his toys and his Instagram account than his actual lover. Lestat, who had given him a half-assed gift with no attempt to make up for said gift with any heartfelt notes or affectionate assurances. Lestat, who had the audacity to poke fun at his religious hypocrisy after the _years_ of manipulation had driven him into the theological corner in which he now felt trapped.

Damn him.

Ah, but speak of the devil and he shall appear, Louis thought, as he heard Lestat’s distinct footsteps coming from his right. He turned his head to find him, and stared with a furrowed brow and stiff set lips. He was dressed beautifully in a plain white shirt accessorized with his new scarf and his leather jacket.

“I knew you’d be here,” Lestat chuckled. “So predictable, Louis.”

Louis stayed silent and let his gaze drift elsewhere.

“What the hell is the matter with you tonight?” His tone had dropped so quickly, it caught Louis by surprise, though he didn’t show it.

He gave a small shrug in response. Though he had a million things to say, and Lestat had given him the perfect opportunity to say them, he did not want to snap. Not on Christmas. Besides, whatever he said, no matter how he framed it, would end up coming out as whiny and pathetic. _You didn’t pay attention to me on Christmas,_ or _I don’t like the book you gave me, I have that one already!_

“Louis.”

“…Lestat.”

“Stop being difficult.”

“I’m not.”

“I won’t let you spend all of Christmas sulking." 

“Leave me alone." 

“ _Mon Dieu,_ please don’t do this, not tonight. Can’t we have one night without your moods?”

“This isn’t a _mood._ ”

“Louis. You and I both know that you are in a mood.”

“I-“

“Are you mad at me, or are you sad?”

“…neither.”

“Then why are you ruining everything?”

“ _I’m_ not the one ruining it.”

“You leave the apartment in a hurricane of dramatic frustration, and now you are practically pouting like a child and refusing to speak! Louis, you are driving me insane, I swear.”

“…why would I be sad?”

“Because you miss her.”

He was silent for a moment, as the realization struck him.

“You miss her, Louis, I know you do. I do too. Especially on Christmas. And I know I can never replace that happiness, but…I do not know how to cure you of such heartache." 

Louis was silent once again as he let the words sink in, but

“I do miss her. I miss her more than I can put into words. But…I wanted to spend a nice Christmas with you, and you’ve been so inconsiderate all night. You hardly thanked me for your gift, and you’ve been flippant and selfish and obnoxious, and I don’t even know _why_ you got me another Keats collection because I already have 2 copies and I have them all memorized by now and just because he is one of my favorite poets doesn’t mean that is the only thing you can get me! You are thoughtless and selfish and I don't understand why you couldn't just give me this one night!"

There was a silence between them after Louis’ rant, during which a smile slowly spread on Lestat’s face.

“Oh, Louis…Louis, my darling,” He began to laugh, shaking his head and spinning around on his heels. “I didn’t mean to be cold, my love. I’m sorry if I ignored you in my excitement over my present.”

“It’s fine,” Louis huffed, now feeling childish about his little explosion.

“No, it’s not. I was hoping not to draw too much attention to your present, actually, because I didn’t want to give away the surprise. However, I have no excuse for not expressing proper gratitude for my present, and for that I apologize.”

“…surprise?”

Lestat opened his jacket and pulled out the book from inside, then pressed the cover to his lips with a mischievous smirk. He then handed the book over to Louis with the stupidly charming smile that Louis could never resist.

“Did you not think to open the book, my love?”

Louis frowned in confusion as he took the book and cracked it open. The second he saw the inside, he felt the air leave his lungs. The middle of the book was cut open, with a small velvet black box inside. It was a snug fit, and when Louis tried to lift the box out, he found that it was taped to prevent rattling. Lestat had truly outdone himself this time; he'd thought of everything.

“Lestat…oh, you didn’t.”

When he looked up again, Lestat was on his knee giving him an expectant look.

“You tacky bastard. Are you really proposing on Christmas?”

Lestat simply laughed and nodded his head.

“At least open the box, you idiot.”

Louis did as he was told, and popped open the box to find a beautiful vintage gold ring with a single diamond set in the middle. He ran his thumb over it for a moment, then took it out to hold it in the warm yellow light of the nearby streetlamp. It was beautiful; not too large or ornate, but with unmistakable details that gave away its age. It must have been made in the mid to late 19th Century; it would certainly match with the half of his wardrobe that was composed of remnants from the last few centuries.

“ _Bright star, would I were as steadfast as thou art- not in lone splendor hung aloft in the night…_ Louis de Pointe du Lac, my bright star _,_ I know I am endlessly annoying and tacky and impossible to put up with, and in retrospect I could have planned this a lot better, but I love you more than you could ever possibly imagine. I know you hate the idea of marriage, especially marriage to me, but it would be an honor to be your husband. Louis, will you marry me?”

Louis stood frozen, glancing back between Lestat and the ring. It was surreal. He’d read about this a million times- he’d seen it happen in real life, in restaurants and on streetcorners, but was _certain_ it would never happen to him. What he and Lestat had now was enough. They already loved each other. Marriage wasn’t meant for them. It was a mortal construct; something made to endure a mortal lifetime, not eternity.

But he was already shaking his head yes, despite every bit of logic that told him not to. And that was always the case when it came to Lestat, wasn’t it? He always found himself abandoning all reason, flinging himself into the unknown with nothing but the knowledge that Lestat was there, by his side. And in the end, that was all he needed.

“ _Bien-sûr.”_


End file.
